


The Fates Lead Him

by benjaminrussell



Series: Shadow of the Templar Week 2017 [3]
Category: Shadow of the Templar - M. Chandler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 17:24:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12085767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benjaminrussell/pseuds/benjaminrussell
Summary: SotT Week Day 3: Different Time Period/Setting AUEven two and a half millennia ago, some things are fated to happen. A spy in their midst is one of them.





	The Fates Lead Him

**Author's Note:**

> I gave everyone vaguely appropriate names for the time period, so here's a list of who's who for clarification.  
>   
> • Nathanael = Nate  
> • Ionathan = Johnny  
> • Cassandra = Sandy  
> • Mikhael = Mike  
> • Richárdos = Rich  
> • Ieremias = Jeremy
> 
> Simon is the only one who gets to keep his name.

Simon surveyed the group of people ahead of him as he crested the hill, pleased to see that all his fellow council members had arrived and were arrayed around the arranged meeting spot, looking appropriately serious for a secret gathering they didn’t know the reason for. To his left were Nathanael from Thebes and Ionathan from Delphi, to his right were Cassandra from Sparta and Mikhael from Ephesus, and directly opposite from Simon’s approach was the other Athenian, Richárdos.

“Good day,” He said as he reached them, completing the circle, “As I’m sure you all know, I wouldn’t have called you all the way out here without good reason, and unfortunately that reason is bad news.” He paused there, taking a moment to look at each of his friends before he shared the information Ieremias had given him. They all kept quiet, even Mikhael who usually filled any silence with a bad joke, clearly picking up on how serious Simon’s news must be.

“I’ve been reliably informed that there is a Persian spy in the city.” At Simon’s words there was an outburst of noise, with everyone but Ionathan talking over each other.

“What?”

“How do you know?”

“May Zeus guide us to root them out quickly!”

“They’ve already taken my homeland; we can’t let them do the same here.” Simon gave them a few moments before clearing his throat in an attempt to draw their attention again, and sure enough, one by one they fell silent again.

“My informant-” Simon started, only to be interrupted by Richárdos grumbling, “It’s Ieremias, isn’t it?” Simon nodded reluctantly, knowing that the identity of his source would complicate things as Richárdos had never liked Ieremias due to his status, even before he had found about their relationship.

“How do you even know he’s telling the truth? He’s a métoikos, and a freed slave at that! How can you trust him?” Richárdos exclaimed, folding his arms across his chest and scowling at Simon, who was desperately trying to think of how he could convince his old friend to trust him on this. He was saved from having to answer though, by Ionathan speaking up for the first time, “We can trust him.” They all knew he had a touch of the Sight, had seen his predictions come true before, so even Richárdos couldn’t argue with that declaration although he clearly wasn’t happy about it.

“My informant, Ieremias, saw a man giving a sealed scroll to a disguised Persian. He unfortunately didn’t get a good look at the spy as it was dark and the man was cloaked, but he followed him all the way back to the headquarters at the barracks, which tells you how serious this is. The spy is an officer in the Athenian army,” Simon informed them, surveying each person’s expression as he spoke. Nathanael was looking worried, and rightly so; Ionathan was as unreadable as always, but had reached out and laid a reassuring hand on Nathanael’s shoulder; Richárdos was still fuming; Mikhael was angry, and given that he’d seen the results of the Persian invasion first hand Simon didn’t blame him; and finally Cassandra who had the look on her face that they’d all learnt meant get out of her way because someone was going to get hurt.

“A traitor AND a spy,” She spat, “When we find him he’s going to regret ever being born.”

***

Ieremias hurried up the hill that he knew was Simon and his war council’s secret meeting spot. He knew Simon wouldn’t be happy that he’d followed him, but the information he’d found out from his contact in the criminal world was too important to wait. He’d just have to risk Simon’s wrath and hope he understood. As he approached the top of the hill he slowed his pace unconsciously to listen to the conversation before he revealed himself, a habit from years spent as a slave that he’d never bothered training himself out of as it had come in useful several times now. He hadn’t actually been expecting to hear anything out of the ordinary – just a discussion of tactics perhaps, but one voice made him freeze. When he’d overheard the spy and the badly disguised Persian exchanging a few words, he’d thought at the time that the spy sounded familiar but had dismissed it, not thinking there was any he would actually know the man. Now he knew where the familiarity had come from – it was council member Richárdos who was the spy. He’d briefly met the man a couple of times, but hadn’t ever exchanged words with him as Richárdos had hated him on sight and refused to do business with Simon if he was around, hence why he hadn’t recognised his voice initially. It was definitely the same voice he’d heard the night before however. He had to warn Simon, and quickly in case Richárdos decided his cover was blown and attacked the rest of the council. One against five wasn’t great odds, especially when one of those five was a Spartan, but who knew what Richárdos would do when cornered. Ieremias steeled himself and resumed his journey to the hilltop, making sure to approach from the side of the hill Simon was stood on. The council members all went for their daggers as they realised they had company, but luckily for him they all relaxed when Simon recognised him.

“What are you doing here?” Simon demanded, not pleased at Ieremias’ presence as expected, and strode towards him.

“I’ve discovered more information about the Persian,” Ieremias said in a low voice, forcing himself not to look in Richárdos’ direction as that would surely give the game away, before closing the distance between them so he could whisper in Simon’s ear.

“But more importantly, I know who the spy is. I heard you all talking as I approached, and I recognised one of the voices as the one I heard last night.” He pulled back just enough to gauge Simon’s expression, which was one of fading anger and seriousness, before leaning in again and murmuring, “It’s Richárdos.” Simon hissed in a breath in shock and took a step backwards. He stared at Ieremias for several seconds, before gripping his shoulders and asking, “Are you sure?” Ieremias brought one hand up to cover Simon’s and replied steadily, “I’m certain.” Then they broke apart, Simon returning to his place in the circle.

“The spy is among us,” Simon announced, looking directly at Richárdos with barely contained fury. The rest of the council turned to look at him as well, but he was no longer there, having darted past Cassandra and Mikhael to grab Ieremias, who suddenly found himself with a dagger to his throat.

“I swear to the Gods, Simon, I will kill him unless you let me go and don’t follow,” Richárdos threatened, sounding desperate. Simon held up his hands in a placating manner and asked quietly, “Why? What reason could you possibly have for giving information to the Persians, Richárdos?” Richárdos sagged a little bit, but still kept the dagger against Ieremias’ throat, and explained, “I met a man in a tavern who I thought was a fellow officer and when we were drunk, he convinced me to tell him about some troop manoeuvres. When I realised he was actually a Persian, it was too late. He threatened to kill me unless I kept giving him information, and he knew I couldn’t report him without revealing what I’d done.”

“Why didn’t you come to me for help?” Simon demanded, “We could have sorted something out.”

“You knew that wouldn’t have worked,” Richárdos said, almost sounding regretful despite the current situation, “I would have been tried and executed for treason.” Then he noticed that the others had been slowly edging closer, and instantly tensed, returning to the ruthless attitude he’d displayed before as he pressed the dagger hard enough into Ieremias’ throat to draw blood.

“Stay back or I’ll slit his throat!” He shouted, taking a few steps backwards and dragging Ieremias with him. Simon’s face had hardened, but he caught Ieremias’ eye and then barely perceptively tilted his head to his right. They knew each other well enough by this point that Ieremias instantly knew what he was trying to convey, and readied himself to react when Simon made his move.

“I’m sorry that it’s come to this, but you leave me no choice,” Simon said sadly, before his hand shot down to where his dagger was sheathed on his belt. Ieremias yanked on Richárdos’ arm hard enough to give himself a few centimetres of movement without slitting his own throat and threw himself as hard as he could to the left, just before something whistled past his ear. He hit the ground hard, and then there was a thud behind him. He rolled over and pushed himself up to see Richárdos on the floor unmoving, with the hilt of Simon’s dagger protruding from one eye, and then collapsed back against the ground in relief.

It was over.

**Author's Note:**

> Métoikos = a non-Athenian resident of Athens without the same rights as someone born there.
> 
> My housemate did her degree in Classical Civilisations so I spent a lot of time grilling her about Ancient Greece in an attempt to make this as historically accurate as possible, and so I have a specific time period this is set (499-449 BC) and reasoning behind things like their nationalities. Feel free to ask if you're interested or have any questions! XD
> 
> I'm on tumblr [here.](http://benjaminrussell.tumblr.com/)


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